


The Trial of Barbara Gordon

by chick_with_wifi



Category: Batman (Comics), Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon being a stone cold badass, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Courtroom Drama, F/M, Families of Choice, Jim Gordon knows who the bats are, Trials, this was written for International Day of Persons with Disabilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16694116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: In a shocking twist of events Barbara is arrested and, although she is in possession of footage that can prove her innocence, she refuses to provide an alibi.Which means it’s up to the bats and their friends to clear her name and figure out what game is being played - before it’s too late.





	1. Act 1 - the charge

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. Today (December 3rd) is International Day of Persons with Disabilities so I wanted to write something about Oracle, and here it is. This is part 1 of 3, the following chapters to be published soon.

Barbara thanked the cashier and left the grocery store, balancing her bags on her lap as she headed back to her van in the parking lot.

“Barbara Gordon?” a male voice asked from somewhere to her left.

“Who wants to know?” she responded archly, turning to face them. Her movements slowed as she saw a sandy-haired young man in police uniform who was holding up a GCPD badge. She didn’t recognise him so he must be new.

“Detective Matt Young. You’re under arrest.”

“On what charges?” she demanded, backing up a few inches to put some more space between them.

“The murder of Oswald Cobblepot.” Young looked down at the handcuffs he was holding and frowned, then shoved them back into his pocket.

Barbara’s hands stilled on her wheels. “What?”

“I’m going to have to ask you to get in the car.” He gestured toward the police car parked nearby. 

People were beginning to stare and Barbara didn’t want to make a scene, but at the same time she didn’t want to be arrested. She looked down at her lap and asked, “What about my groceries?”

“I, uh, I’ll put them in the trunk.”

Glaring, she handed them to him.

“Now please get in the car.” 

He opened the rear passenger door for her and she shrugged off his attempts to help her as she got in the car. She could do it herself and she especially didn’t need his help with half of Gotham watching like they were in a zoo.

Fuming, she dismantled her chair and put it on the seat next to her. She could practically see the headlines already: ‘Gotham police commissioner's daughter arrested’ ‘Barbara Gordon: murderer?’

Once she was settled, Young began speaking again. “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be used -”

“Yeah, I know the Miranda rights.” She waved a hand. “Just get on with it, please.”

“If you say so.” Young closed the door and got into the driver’s seat.

-

Once Commissioner Gordon had finished casing the crime scene and his colleagues were beginning to go home for the night, he heard the swish of a cape behind him. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“Not _if_ I’d show up?” Batman asked.

“Not with all the suspicious deaths we’ve been getting recently, no.” Gordon turned to face him. “Before you ask, there doesn’t seem to be anything untoward here. Signs of a struggle, purse and valuable jewelry missing, amount of blood indicates the work of an ameteur. I’d say this was a classic case of the vic fighting back more than they expected. It doesn’t match the the MO of any of Gotham’s most wanted.”

Batman made a quick examination of the scene. “I agree with your assessment. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Of cour -” He was cut off by his phone ringing. “Excuse me.” Pulling it out of his coat pocket, he swiped to answer. “Hello? Yes, speaking.” Pause. “Ok I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

He hung up and bent over so his elbows were resting on his thighs and rubbed his face. “Oh Christ.”

“What is it?” asked Batman, the signature gravelly quality of his voice barely present.

“It’s Barbara.” He straightened up. “She’s just been arrested. I - I have to get to the police station.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Dressed like that? I think the GCPD might have a few questions.”

Batman looked down and cleared his throat. “Oh. Yeah.”

“I’ll signal you later when I know what’s going on. Or I’m sure you can get one of your sources to fill you in if you really want to know.” He headed for his car.

“Commissioner,” Batman said, causing him to stop with one hand on his shoulder. “Jim. Barbara will be fine.”

“I certainly hope so. Goodnight, Batman.”

-

Barbara sat in one of the interrogation rooms at the police station with her head in her hands. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her skull.

She was in deep, possibly deeper than she’d ever been in her life, and it was serious.

On the journey there the arresting officer had explained to her the details of her murder charge and she had instantly realised just how precarious her situation was. Since then she had run all the simulations in her head and none of them had a good outcome.

She was fairly certain she could escape police custody if needed, since she had her chair and escrima sticks and wasn’t handcuffed, but she didn’t want the pressure of being on the run with them coming after her. There was no way they would let this drop, and all her work was in Gotham. She couldn’t leave. But she couldn’t go to jail either.

 _Get it together Babs_ , she told herself sternly. _You don’t have time for this. Now think - how are you going to get yourself out of this mess?_

Sitting up straight, she tied her hair in a ponytail and decided on her course of action. She knew what she had to do. It wasn’t safe and it almost certainly wasn’t a good idea, but it was her only option.

When someone knocked on the door, she started. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard anyone approaching. It was Detective Young again.

“Miss Gordon, I’ve come to ask you a few questions.”

“You mean you’ve come to interrogate me. Just tell it how it is, Detective, and I’ll do the same.”

“Alright.” He took a seat opposite her. “Miss Gordon, I’m sure you understand that being charged with murder is a very serious matter. Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon and we found a strand of your hair at the crime scene. Do you know Oswald Cobblepot?”

“I know of him. We’ve crossed paths a few times but never really spoken.”

“Was that intentional on your part?”

“I’m not his biggest fan, if that’s what you mean.”

“What were you doing yesterday between the hours of 1 and 2 am?”

“I don’t remember.”

“So you have no alibi.”

“It would appear so.”

“Miss Gordon, you do realise how bad this looks, don’t you?”

Barbara spread her hands out in front of her. “I don’t control how it looks.”

Young stood up. “I believe we’re done here, for the time being. From here on I advise you to be very careful about what you say, Miss Gordon.”

She didn’t flinch as he walked past her out of the room.

-

Upon entering the police station, Commissioner Gordon barged straight up to the nearest detective and demanded, “Where is she?”

“Interrogation room 5,” the detective replied, slightly taken aback but not willing to oppose the commissioner.

Gordon set off in that direction, walking with such purpose that the crowds parted for him like the red sea.

When Young went after him and began to protest that such behaviour wasn’t allowed, the detective grabbed his arm and informed him, “Are you sure you want to be arguing with that guy? He’s Commissioner Gordon.”

Gordon entered the interrogation room and dropped to his knees by Barbara’s chair to hug her.

“Dad,” she said, voice cracking as she returned his embrace.

“Shh, Babs, it’s alright. I know you didn’t do it. We’re going to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “It’s more complicated than that, you don’t know -”

“I know you’re not a killer. Not like James.”

“So you admit he is a killer.”

He stood up. “I admit he has done some very questionable things. But this isn’t about James, this is about you being innocent.”

Barbara took her time before speaking. “Dad...I don’t have an alibi. And from what I hear, they have some solid evidence pointing towards me. I might not make it out of this.” Gordon began to protest but she cut him off. “No, I don’t want you to pull any strings. This is something I have to ride out on my own.”

“We aren’t talking about a drunk driving charge here, Barb, you were accused of _murder_. I’m not going to stand by and let my daughter go to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.”

She looked up at him. “That isn’t your decision to make.”

“At least get a lawyer.”

“They can’t help me.” Quietly, she added, “nobody can. There’s too much at stake.”

Gordon began pacing. “Fine.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call Dinah. If anybody can talk some sense into you, it’s her.”

She didn’t protest while her dad explained to Dinah what had happened and how uncooperative she was being. 

“She’ll be here soon,” Gordon told Barbara. “I have to go now. Barb, please be careful. You’re in a very precarious position here.”

 _You don’t know the half of it_ , she thought grimly.

He left, and shortly after Dinah barged into the interrogation room with a very worried looking Dick Grayson in tow.

“Hi,” Barbara said warily.

“Babs, what’s going on? We heard you were arrested for murder!” Dick said.

“Of the Penguin, yeah. You heard right.”

“And you haven’t provided an alibi,” Dinah said. “The hell are you thinking?!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Barbara, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to call you a coward.” Dinah threw her coat onto an empty chair. “Why are you being such a coward?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Barbara saw Dick stiffen and take a step towards Dinah. When she held up a hand he stopped and returned to his spot by the wall. “No, let her speak.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Go on, Dinah. Explain to me how I’m being a coward.”

“Well first, have you considered what you being arrested would do to your dad? He still blames himself for you getting shot, if you went to prison it would destroy him. And second, what about your extracurricular hobby? You are an invaluable resource, you know that, and I’m not sure we could manage without you.”

“I’m not the only -”

“Um, I wasn’t finished. But if you want to jeopardize all that by being your stubborn righteous self and go to prison for a crime you didn’t commit, be my guest. I think I’ve made my point.”

“Are you…?” Dick asked.

“Yes I’m done.”

“Okay. Babs, why won’t you provide an alibi? You were at your office the whole time and there are plenty of cameras that could prove it.”

Barbara exhaled slowly and put her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” He knelt next to her chair and waited for her to look at him. “Barbara, tell me please.”

“Dick, I...I just can’t, I’m sorry.” She backed away from him.

“If you won’t tell us anything how are we supposed to help you?” Dinah asked.

Barbara popped a wheelie and rocked her chair back and forth - her equivalent of pacing - while she wrestled with her conscience for a minute, then made her decision. “Fine. You want to know why I can’t provide an alibi? Give me your phone.”

Dinah cautiously placed her phone in Barbara’s outstretched hand.

She made a voice recording of herself saying, “Keystone, Whiskey, Beelzebub. Clocktower CCTV, 1am December 3rd 2018.” She ended the recording.

“What was that? A town, an alcoholic beverage and a biblical figure?” Dick asked.

“I needed a combination of words I wouldn’t say in an ordinary sentence.” She returned Dinah’s phone to her. “Play this out loud in my office. Then you’ll understand why.”

“Babs…”

“You are dismissed, Miss Lance, Mr Grayson.”

-

“It feels weird being here without Babs,” Dinah said as they stepped into the deserted Clocktower. “Like I’m trespassing or something.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed.

Once they reached the main control room, Dinah said, “Lights.” The whole room lit up and the various pieces of computer equipment whirred to life.

“You got the recording?” he asked.

She nodded and brought up the voice recording app on her phone. Then, not really knowing what to do, she held it up in the general direction of the computers and pressed play.

Barbara’s voice rang out in the otherwise silent room and for a second nothing happened. Dinah wondered if something wasn’t working properly.

She had been expecting the main computer screen to respond, but instead almost the entire wall lit up and showed CCTV footage of that room from the previous night. 

It showed Barbara talking to someone offscreen, clearly irate and not happy with being ignored. The object of her anger then walked into the shot, dressed in full Batman gear and looking as though he had been beaten up, down and sideways.

The sound came through a second later, just as Batman began to walk towards the door, and Barbara said, “Bruce Thomas Wayne, you listen to me right now.”

Batman stopped, turned and looked at her. “I’m listening.”

“First, you might want to do something about that cut on your cheek.”

“The what?” He put a hand up to his face and it came back with blood on it. “Oh.” He took off his cowl, frowning at the tear in it, and began dabbing his cut with the antiseptic Barbara always kept at hand.

“My point is,” Barbara continued. “Gotham needs Batman, that much is clear, but what you do, what we all do, it’s more than a job. It’s a calling. If your head isn’t in the game, like it wasn’t tonight, that can have dire consequences. This whole operation has become bigger than just one person. You can do good with Wayne Enterprises as well, don’t let your life be reduced to this mask.”

He hesitated. “I can’t work out if you’re telling me off or not.”

“Bruce, when I’m telling you off, you’ll know about it.”

“So what are you telling me?” When she rolled her eyes he added, “Go easy on me, Barbara, I just took a severe blow to the head.”

“Correction: several blows to the head. Which only adds to my argument. I’m telling you that if being Batman and Bruce Wayne is too much, then you should focus on Bruce Wayne for a while.”

“Pause replay,” Dick said. His voice came out slightly choked.

Dinah was staring open mouthed at the screen. “My God…” she breathed.

“Well, now we know why Barbara isn’t giving an alibi. Can you imagine what would happen if this got leaked?”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“We can’t let Batman’s identity be revealed, but we also can’t let Babs go to prison.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What are we going to do, Dinah?”

She hugged him. “Babs is the bravest person I know, but she’s also ridiculously stubborn. If I know her at all, her plan is to try and deal with this on her own. But she doesn’t have to. We’re her team, and we’ll always have her back.”

-

Stephanie flicked through the channels on the TV in Wayne Manor while eating her waffle. There wasn’t anything good on, just old Friends reruns she had seen hundreds of times and some documentary about the secret life of ants.

She was considering watching the ant documentary when suddenly the TV announced, “Breaking news! Gotham city resident Barbara Gordon is currently being held in police custody on the charge of murdering Oswald Cobblepot. More information to come as we have it.”

“WHAT?!” Stephanie leapt off the sofa, her plate shattering on the floor. “This can’t be right. Babs would never!”

Damian entered the room and surveyed her critically. “Ah, Brown. I heard something smash and figured you wouldn’t be far.”

“Damian!” she said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Babs has just been arrested. For _murder_.”

“That’s preposterous.” He glared at her hands until she removed them.

“I know.”

“Gordon would never be careless enough to get caught.”

“I kno - excuse me? Babs wouldn’t kill someone. We need to do something. Think, Steph, think. That bloodhound Vicki Vale will be sniffing around here any time now, so we need to make sure nobody is available to answer her questions. Gotta get the whole gang to the Cave for a family meeting.”

“Are you at all aware that you’re ‘thinking’ out loud?”

“This is serious.”

“So is your inability to confine your thoughts to your head.”

“Just go find your dad. I’ll send out the memo about the family meeting.”

As he walked away, Steph was fairly certain she heard Damian mutter something about her not having the authority to call a family meeting but she decided to let it drop. She had more important things to think about than Damian’s attitude.

The whole gang assembled in the Batcave a few minutes later, including Bruce who looked like he’d had better days.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, causing all chatter to stop immediately. “I’m guessing by now you have all heard what happened to Barbara. I’m sure you must be worried about her, but I assure you we’re going to do everything in our power to make sure she is proven innocent. No question. I would also like to extend my gratitude to Stephanie for calling a family meeting as soon as she found out, that has saved all of us a lot of unwanted hassle.”

Steph blushed, but mostly thought ‘in your face, Damian, I do so have the authority to call family meetings’.

“We need to help Babs,” Cass said. She was fiddling with the sleeve of her jumper.

“And we will,” Bruce assured her. “I give you my word.”

Before anybody else could speak, Dick raced into the room. He looked dishevelled, and Steph assumed he must have run all the way there. “I’ve just come from the Clocktower and I have some important information about Babs’ alibi.”

He provided a rundown of everything he had found out, and the stunned silence once he was finished lasted for a whole minute.

“That’s…” Tim began.

“Not good,” Alfred finished. “Not good at all. Is there anything we can do to help Miss Barbara?”

“There has to be,” Bruce said. “This is all my fault.”

“No,” Dick said forcefully. “There is no time to play the blame game. We need to work fast before this gets any bigger. Ideas for what we can do - go!”

“How about keeping our favourite intrepid reporter off her back?” Steph suggested.

“Good shout.”

“Finding her...a good lawyer?” said Cass.

“Yes, that will definitely help.”

“I might be able to work some magic on that footage,” Tim said. “Do you think you could get me a copy of it?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“And I will give a press interview to hopefully turn the public’s opinion in her favor,” Bruce said.

Dick smiled. “Those are some great suggestions, everyone. There’s no way Babs will be going to the slammer on our watch. Between us we have an immense amount of skills and resources, so it’s time we put them to use. Let's go.”


	2. Act 2 - the investigation

“Dinah?” Dick called upon returning to the Clocktower after the family meeting in the Batcave.

“In here,” came the faint reply from the main control room.

He found her sitting on Oracle’s desk and biting the thumbnail of one hand, deep in thought. 

She looked up when he entered the room. “What’s our situation?”

“A little better than it was,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “But still horrendous if I’m being honest.”

“Sounds about right. Would you care to be a little more specific?”

“The bats are doing everything they can to help, but while I was on my way here the Commissioner phoned to tell me Babs’ trial is happening tomorrow.”

Dinah’s hand flew to her mouth. “My God...tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately so. She’s refusing to have anyone represent her, which must speed up the process, but still. In my experience from Blüdhaven justice is never this swift, someone has to be pulling the strings.” He sighed. “I just don’t know who.”

Dinah gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s not ideal, but that theory makes sense.” She stood up. “While you were out, I was thinking about this case. And I feel like there’s something really suspicious going on here. And I’m not just saying that because my best friend was charged with cold blooded murder. Like, the only details we have are really sketchy and stereotypical.” She shrugged. “I get the feeling they’re being super vague on purpose.”

Dick nodded slowly. 

She held up a hand. “And before you say anything, I’m not just being delusional or grasping at straws because I’m worried about Babs. This is a legitimate concern.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort,” he said. “We’re vigilantes, trained to do our jobs even - or especially - when lives or livelihoods are on the line. I trust your judgement. What are your thoughts?”

“Well they said Babs’ fingerprints were found on the murder weapon, but they haven’t told us what it was. It might be on record though, I don’t know, I’m not exactly a computer whiz. Anyway, a single strand of her hair at the scene? I can’t buy that. And now this super speedy court date.”

“I think we’re onto something here,” he said. “We should take a look in the morgue. See if Mr Cobblepot is really dead.”

Dinah winced. “Do we have to?”

“You squeamish or something?”

“No. I just don’t think it’s very ethical, is all.”

Dick shook his head. “It’s not like we’re going grave robbing or anything. We’re just making sure the victim is indeed who we think he is. And not Clayface or another imposter.”

“Alright. I’ll go get changed and meet you at the morgue.”

Dick put on his Nightwing outfit and headed over to the rooftops to the morgue. It was evening and the sun was beginning to set, casting the shadows that always made him feel more comfortable.

He picked the lock on the door to get in and crawled through the air vents to where the bodies were stored, according to the floorplan he had found in Oracle’s database.

“Canary, I’m in position,” he whispered into his earpiece.

“Roger that, Nightwing. I am too.” She was around the corner from him, keeping an eye out for anyone who might walk past.

Dick lowered himself down from the ceiling and examined the row of drawers. Commissioner Gordon had told him Oswald Cobblepot was in drawer 10.

He found the one he was looking for and braced himself. “I’m opening the drawer now.” What he saw shocked him more than the dead body he’d been expecting. “It’s...it’s empty?”

“What do you mean it’s empty?” Canary whispered.

“How many ways can I mean empty? He’s not there, Dinah.” He looked around the room. “And he’s not on the autopsy table or anything.”

“Check the other drawers, maybe you got the wrong one.”

“No, there’s a label here with his name on but no -”

He was interrupted by Dinah hissing, “Nightwing! Someone's coming. Make yourself scarce, now!”

He softly closed the drawer then leapt up onto the table and vaulted into the air vent, carefully placing it back behind him.

“Safe,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you at the back entrance.”

“Alright.”

They reconvened outside the back door and hid behind a nearby dumpster, out of sight from anyone inside the building.

“So the Penguin isn’t dead,” Dinah said.

“We don’t know that,” Dick replied.

“His body wasn’t in the morgue, we don’t know where he was supposedly killed or what with. That sounds pretty ‘not dead’ to me.”

“Maybe it was Colonel Mustard in the dining room with a candlestick.”

She smiled. “I doubt it.”

“But you’re right, there’s definitely something weird going on here. Do you know where the Penguin usually spends his time? We can ask around, someone there might know something.”

“I’ll get Oracle to - nevermind.” Dinah sighed. “I can’t ask Oracle for help because she’s in police custody. I can ask Proxy, though.”

“Proxy?”

“One of Oracle’s apprentices. She’s been showing her the ropes for the computer side of things.” She got her phone out of her jacket pocket and dialled. “Hey, Prox. It’s Black Canary. Is now a good time?” Pause. “Great. I need you to look up where the Penguin can usually be found.” Longer pause. Dinah held the phone to her shoulder and told Dick, “She’s looking it up.”

He nodded.

She put the phone back to her ear. “Yes, I’m here. Gotham Bay, was that? Alright. Thanks, Proxy. I owe you one.” She hung up. “His latest digs is some weird building in Gotham Bay. Can’t miss it, apparently.”

“Do you have a plan?”

She snapped her fingers. “I do. But it will require espionage and going undercover.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

She elbowed him playfully. “Come on, it might be fun. Everyone loves a good bit of espionage.”

-

Tim watched the clip of Barbara and Bruce for the fifth consecutive time. He could barely stand to think about what might happen if it was released to the world, and the dire consequences for all of them.

If they knew Bruce was Batman, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume all his adopted children were Gotham’s other caped crusaders. Not to mention all the villains who would come after their civilian identities and loved ones.

Much as he didn’t want Babs to go to prison, he had to admire her resolve.

“Is that the dreaded footage?” Steph asked. She and Cass had entered the room without him noticing while he was distracted.

Tim spun his chair around. “Yeah. I’m trying to find a way to edit it so it just looks like Babs is talking to Bruce and not the Dark Knight, but it’s difficult. The audio and the visuals both need doctoring, and it has to look believable. If they so much as suspect us of tampering with the evidence, it’s all over.”

“Maybe we can help?” Steph suggested, placing a hand on the back of his office chair.

Cass nodded enthusiastically.

“Sure. Let’s see…” He put it back to the beginning. “The first few seconds are fine, B isn’t on screen.” He paused it. “Here’s where the hard work begins.”

He let it play, and it showed Batman in full gear walking around the room while Barbara ranted.

“‘Bruce Thomas Wayne’, wow I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone give him the full name ultimatum,” Tim said.

Steph smirked. “That’s Babs for you.”

“I was thinking I could maybe transpose an image of Bruce’s face sans cowl onto it, but I don’t know. It would need to be able to move and change expression to be realistic.”

“Not necessarily,” Cass said. She pointed, “Look at his body language. He doesn’t turn his head and he has -” she looked at Steph with a smirk “- resting angry face. Doesn’t need much change.” 

Tim rewound and watched it again. “You’re right. So I just need the one picture. I think I have one from a press conference where he doesn’t look too happy…” He transposed the image over the video and cropped it to the exact dimensions, programming it to move when Batman moved his head. He let it play. “How does that look?”

“Great,” Steph said, and Cass gave two thumbs up.

“Okay.” He resumed the replay. “He takes off the cowl, that’s easy enough to fix, we just need to edit his clothes.” He fiddled with the image of the clothes until they looked like an ordinary black tracksuit. “The hard part is Babs’s speech.”

“Here’s where I can help,” Steph said. “You don’t need all of the footage, just enough to prove where Barbara was at the time of the murder. So you can just crop out the incriminating stuff. You’ve sorted Bruce, and the Clocktower just looks like a fancy apartment.”

“Let’s see…” Barbara didn’t move much while she was speaking, so it was fairly easy to reduce her speech to ‘My point is, Gotham needs you, that much is clear, but what you do, it’s more than a job. It’s a calling. If your head isn’t in the game that can have dire consequences. This whole operation has become bigger than just one person. You can do good with Wayne Enterprises.’. He left in the part about telling him off, and ended it after ‘go easy on me, Barbara’

Then he played it through one more time.

“Perfect,” Steph said. “Cryptic but not incriminating. Good work.”

Cass shook her head. “Barbara’s body language needs…” She gestured with one hand.

“Fluidity?” Steph offered.

“Yes. Right now it looks edited.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Tim asked.

“Add footage of her moving...but sped up.”

A few hours and a lot of editing later, they had a finished product that looked authentic and Tim loaded it onto his memory stick.

“When is the trial due to start?” Steph asked.

Tim looked at the clock in the corner of the screen and pulled a face. “In five minutes.”

“We won’t make it,” Cass said. Her face fell. “Won’t be there for Barbara.”

“Actually....” Steph grabbed her phone and sent a quick text. “We will.”

Seconds later, a knock sounded on the door and Tim opened it to see Supergirl smiling at them.

“Did somebody call for a super?” she said.

“You know Supergirl?” Tim asked, astounded.

Steph hugged Kara. “Of course I know Supergirl. Thanks for coming, by the way,” she said to her.

“For you, anything. What do you need?” Kara pulled away but kept one arm around Steph.

“I need you to fly the three of us to the courtroom pronto. It’s for Barbara’s trial.”

“Yes, I heard about that. It’s awful, you must be worried about her. If there’s anything else I can do to help, just name it.”

“Thanks. We’ll keep that in mind. And maybe when all this is over we can go out for ice cream?”

“Sure.”

-

“You sure this is the place?” Dick looked doubtfully at the new building floating in Gotham Bay. “It looks like something out of Frozen.”

The structure was made entirely out of ice, with jagged spires at the top and a gated entrance. It was a considerable distance away from the shore, accessible only by the boats provided at the dock.

“Unfortunately so,” Dinah replied. “The Penguin’s new headquarters is the very latest in Gotham secret hideout vogue. According to Proxy, it’s called the Icd Lounge. Inside it’s kind of like an ice sauna with lots of attractive female bodyguards.”

She continued, “Getting in is no easy task but at the very least we’ll find out if he is still alive and kicking.” She gestured down at her outfit, which was her trademark fishnet tights and a tight black leather onepiece that wasn’t much bigger than a swimming costume. “If you couldn’t already tell, I’m going to be ‘auditioning’ to be his latest recruit. But I want it known that I am unhappy about having to pander to misogynists to complete this mission.”

“Noted. And believe me, Dinah, if there was even the slightest chance of success if I went in your place, I’d do it.” He paused. “Aren’t you going to be cold? I’d offer to lend you my jacket but I’m not actually wearing one myself, a decision which I now regret.”

“I’ll be alright.” She patted his cheek. “Sweet of you to offer, though. And stop fretting, we got this.”

She climbed into the nearest boat and tapped her earpiece to switch it on. Dick did the same and mouthed ‘good luck’.

“Let’s hope I don’t need it,” she muttered. Before she could talk herself out of it, she gunned the engine and navigated toward the foreboding gates.

When she got there, she disembarked and pulled the rope attached to a bell inside.

A small hole in the wall opened up and a scowling face looked out at her. “What do you want?”

She plastered on her most charming smile and said, “Hi. Say, you don’t happen to have a job opening for a bodyguard, do you?”

“I might do. But you’ll have to prove yourself.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. One second.” She took a few steps back and aimed at the roof, then under the guise of clearing her throat advised Dick to turn his earpiece off for a few seconds and screamed.

It caused a small crack to run across one of the turrets and the doorman covered his ears. “Come in,” he said loudly, rubbing his temple. 

He stepped back from the hole and opened the main gate. She entered and the door swung shut behind her. She could see stalactites hanging from the ceiling and various pools of ice cold water. In front of her were two women in uniform.

“Beat these two women in a fight and the job is yours,” the doorman said. 

“You could have at least given me a challenge.” Dinah had just enough time to assess what style of attack they might use before the two women launched themselves at her. 

Acting on instinct, she blocked a punch from one with her arm and a blow from the other with her leg. Then she dropped down to the floor and swept one leg sideways, taking one of the women down. While doing this she grabbed the second woman by an arm and flipped her over her shoulder. She landed on top of the other woman, and both groaned in pain.

“Anything else?” Dinah asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

“You’re hired,” the bodyguard said. “Provided Mr Cobblepot likes you. Follow me, please.”

“What a creep,” Dinah murmured.

“I agree,” Dick replied through her earpiece.

She tilted her head so her hair obscured her mouth and whispered, “He’s taking me to see the Penguin now.”

“So he’s not dead?”

“I’ll confirm when I have eyes on him.”

“Just through here,” the bodyguard said, indicating to the room to their left and stepping back to let Dinah go first.

She stepped into the room and saw none other than Oswald Cobblepot, sitting on what looked like a throne of ice with his signature umbrella propped next to him.

“Is this the songbird I heard earlier?” he asked.

“Mr Cobblepot,” Dinah said. “You look well.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

She thrust her elbow into the jaw of the doorman and he dropped unconscious.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “But we’re on a bit of a clock here.” She approached him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “You might have heard of me, I’m the Black Canary. Now I don’t know if you get satellite tv out here but someone is currently on trial after being framed for your murder. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“M-my murder? That doesn't ring a bell.”

“Final answer?”

Oswald tried to pull his collar out of her grip. “Trust me, I’d remember being murdered.”

She loosened her grasp but didn’t let go of him, then turned away to speak into her earpiece. “You get all that?”

“Loud and clear,” Dick replied. “How soon’s the trial?”

She checked Oswald’s watch. “Five minutes. Damn. Any suggestions for how we get there?”

“As a matter of fact I do. Hang tight, I’ll be there in a flash.”

Mere seconds later, Dick appeared in the Ice Lounge along with another familiar face, Wally West.

“That’s right,” Dick said proudly. “I have a speedster on speeddial. I call it speedsterdial.”

Using her free hand, Dinah facepalmed. Oswald, however, looked mildly amused.

“You know you’re my best friend, man,” Wally said, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “But you gotta stop calling me every time you need a ride somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important,” Dick said. He leaned over to whisper into Wally’s ear. “I need you to get all three of us to Barbara’s trial.” At normal volume he added, “I'll buy you a Big Belly Burger.”

“Hello my name is Kid Flash and I’ll be your speedster today.”

“Just run,” Dick said.

“That’s what I do best.”

-

“Can you confirm your name is Barbara Joan Gordon?”

Barbara nodded.

“I require a verbal answer for the transcript.”

“Yes.”

“And you understand the charge against you?”

“Yes.”

“For the transcript I will recap. Miss Gordon has been charged with the murder of Oswald Cobblepot. We have significant evidence against her, and she has been unable to provide an alibi for the time the murder was committed. Miss Gordon, how do you plead?”

“Guilty, Your Honor.”


	3. Act 3 - the trial

“Guilty, Your Honor,” Barbara said.

Commissioner Gordon’s hands clenched in his lap. There had been a lot of times when he’d been worried about his daughter, chiefly among them when she’d been shot, but this was the first time he’d been concerned that she might be making a big mistake.

“We will proceed to trial and I ask the jury to decide what sentence is appropriate. Prosecution, please begin your opening statement,” said the judge.

“Alright.” The prosecutor stood up. “Barbara Joan Gordon has been charged with murder in the first degree, that is to say, wilful and premeditated murder with malice aforethought.”

The judge asked Barbara, “Do you wish to present your opening statement or wait until the prosecutor has given all his evidence?”

“I will present it now,” Barbara said. “I argue that this was not murder in the first degree, but rather a felony murder.”

“Very well,” the judge said. “Prosecution, please present your evidence.”

Gordon could barely believe what was happening. He felt physically sick from worry and knew he had to leave the room before he did something he regretted. He could almost feel the walls closing in on him, suffocating him.

Sitting next to him was Alfred Pennyworth, so Gordon leaned over to him and whispered, “I need to get some air. Can you keep an eye on Barbara for me and call me the second anything happens?”

“Of course, Commissioner,” Alfred said.

Then, thankful he was sitting on the end of a row, Gordon slipped out of the door and headed outside. Once there, he leant against a wall and lit a cigarette. Gradually, he began to calm down and that was when he realised exactly what Barbara had said and the implications thereof. She’d been trying to warn him. 

“Oswald Cobblepot is still alive,” Batman said, materialising down the alley from Gordon.

He took a drag of his cigarette and turned to face the cloaked figure. “Hello to you to. How’d you swing by that intel? And, more importantly, can you prove it?”

“My sources met with him less than an hour ago. I can’t tell you any more than that, but I wanted to assure you that the outcome of this trial will be favourable.”

“That’s fortunate for you. If my daughter went to jail protecting you and your people...let’s just say I’d make sure you weren’t be welcome in Gotham any more.”

“Commissioner, Barbara is important -”

“She’s Oracle, isn’t she, Bruce?”

Batman stopped in his tracks. “How long have you known?”

“I’ve known about all of you since she first became Batgirl. They didn’t make me Commissioner for my good looks, you know. And if you know who one is, it’s not hard to figure out the rest.” He shrugged. “I was hoping you’d find a way to sort this out, considering you work outside the law and all. I’m glad I was right.”

“How did you know she was protecting me - us?”

“I didn’t until you just confirmed it.” He smiled at Batman’s little gasp. “Standard police interrogation technique. Act like you know everything your suspect does and they’ll let details slip. To answer your question, I know my daughter and I know when she’s hiding something. Judging from her resolve it had to be something big and judging from your involvement it had to be something involving your people. Logical conclusion, she’s doing this to keep a secret. My best guess, your secret identity. Am I right?”

Batman didn’t reply, but that was all Gordon needed.

“Thought so. She’s loyal to you, I’ll admit. Although I’d wager her secret identity is also on the line here, so she’s not being entirely altruistic.” He held up a hand. “Oh, and before you disappear on me, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“The trial’s a hoax.” When Batman didn’t say anything, Gordon continued. “I’d had my suspicions since all this started but Barb just confirmed it for me. This whole situation hasn’t been following procedure but I put it down to the percentage of corrupt cops there are here, ones willing to take a bribe. Until Barb said she didn’t commit first degree murder, but rather a felony murder.”

“So?”

“So a felony murder is a type of first degree murder! It’s when the defendant is charged with first degree for a murder that happened during committing a crime, which nobody has accused her of doing. Barb would know that, she has a Masters in Law from Harvard. But the judge didn’t even flinch.”

“You think she said that to send you a message?”

Gordon nodded. “I know so. What I don’t know is why somebody’s going to all this trouble. Do with that what you will.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “I think I’m ready to go back inside now.” When he looked back up, Batman had already gone. He shook his head, “Figures.”

He went back inside and offered Barbara a reassuring smile when she glanced over at him. He wasn’t sure if it was convincing, but it seemed to do the trick.

The judge continued speaking but was soon interrupted by three people quite literally crashing through the door.

Tim was the first into the room and almost tripped but caught himself at the last second. He was closely followed by Steph and Cass. Gordon sagged slightly with relief, he’d been hoping it would be those three who showed up in the nick of time.

When the people sitting near them began to whisper about how they had gotten there without being seen, Steph winked at them and said, “Draw your own conclusions.”

“I object!” Tim announced.

“Timbo,” Steph whispered. “‘I object’ is what you say at weddings, not trials.”

“Hey it did the trick,” he whispered back. Then he raised his voice and said, “We are here to provide Barbara’s alibi.” He held up a memory stick. “Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor?”

The judge didn’t seem all that perturbed. “Granted.”

Tim presented him with the memory stick which he then handed to someone off to the side so they could plug it into the computer and play it on the projection screen mounted to the wall.

While this was happening, Barbara turned to face Cass and signed, ‘what are you doing?’

‘The Penguin is alive,’ Cass signed back, standing at such an angle that only Barbara could see her hands. ‘We can prove you are innocent.’

‘I don’t want you to!’ Barbara realised her outburst was unnecessary and tried to backtrack. ‘I mean...I don’t want anyone involved in this. All our secret identities are in danger. We can’t let anyone investigate us. That’s why I don’t have a lawyer or a defence. If I go to prison quietly, there’s less risk. Besides… something is wrong here.’

Cass shook her head. ‘I think you underestimate how important you are to us.’

The footage finished playing and Tim said, “So you see, Barbara was clearly otherwise occupied at the time of the ‘murder’ and has no connections to it whatsoever. Thank you for your time.”

“Hold on,” the judge said. “What do you mean ‘murder’?” He copied Tim’s finger quotes.

“Well, you see…”

The doors swung open again, this time Dick and Dinah appeared along with Oswald Cobblepot.

“Wha-? How many other people are going to materialise in here?” the judge asked.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Your Honor,” Dick said. “But I would like to point out that Barbara can’t have killed Mr Cobblepot if he _isn’t dead_.”

He gestured dramatically toward Oswald, who drew himself up to his full height and said, “Now see here! I don’t know who has been spreading these rumours about me, but they aren’t true. You can quite clearly see that I am alive and well.”

“I withdraw my guilty plea!” Barbara called. “I plead not guilty!”

The judge frowned. “I’m not sure that’s allowed.”

“According to the Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure section 32(e) the defendant has the right to withdraw a guilty plea with fair and just reason,” Barbara said. She gestured at Oswald, “This seems to fit the bill.”

“I, uh, I see. We’ll put it to the jury,” the judge said.

“She’s innocent!” came a chorus of shouts from the jury.

“I guess that settles it. A verdict has been reached - Barbara Gordon is not guilty. You have been acquitted of all crimes against you and are free to go.”

Cass cheered and wrapped Barbara in a hug, then the rest of her friends and family joined in, all expressing their relief.

When Gordon bent down to hug her he whispered, “I just need to speak to Batman outside. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Alright.” Barbara turned to her friends. “You guys go on ahead.”

“What are you going to do?” Dick asked.

Her jaw was set and her eyes dark with determination. “Get some answers.”

She approached the bench and looked at the judge. “I know you’re an imposter and this whole thing is a hoax. Tell me what’s going on here.”

“Busted,” the judge said, just as the doors slammed shut and sealed the two of them in, along with the jury and members of the public who had not already left.

-

“I thought you’d be celebrating with your daughter,” Batman said.

Gordon laughed bitterly. “We both know the corruption in Gotham runs deep and there’s no such thing as a simple victory. We’ve proved Barb is innocent but we still don’t know who framed her or why. Do you have any more intel?”

“Not at present.”

“I suggest you get your people on that ASAP. Because that trial was an absolute joke, no way in Hell was it legit.”

“Tell me everything you know.”

“Whoever framed her has to have serious computer skills, they managed to hack in and put her DNA on record without anyone noticing. Presumably someone who knows about her ties to your lot.”

“There’s a reasonable amount of people who fit that description. And who have reason to want her out of the picture.”

“But not permanently,” Gordon pointed out. “Their murder case was flimsy at best, they never intended for it to hold water. I think it was a cover up to keep you all distracted while they did something else.”

“Something like that?” Batman pointed over Gordon’s shoulder.

He spun around and saw a squadron of armed guards march toward the courthouse and lock every door and window, standing in front of them with their weapons out.

Running forward, Gordon shouted, “I’m the police commissioner, I demand to know what is going on!”

But the guards didn’t respond.

-

In the courtroom, the judge reached up and fiddled with something on his neck. Then his face became distorted, until the projection was gone and Barbara could see exactly who it was.

“Riddle me this,” he said. “What has no legs, is too smart for her own good and is in way over her head?”

Barbara could have smacked herself. Why was she so stupid? She’d already figured out the judge was fake and in on the framing, but she hadn’t expected anything of this magnitude. How did the Riddler know her secret identity?

“That would be you, my dear,” he said to Barbara. “Gotham’s elite, assembled here before me. It’s a shame the good old Commissioner and beloved billionaire Bruce Wayne have already made their escape. But there are still plenty of important people here. Quiet everyone, the show is about to start.”

The assistant pressed a key on the computer and the projection screen lit up to reveal footage of the Calculator, holding a Rubik’s cube. “Hello, Gotham. I am the Calculator and as of -” he checked his watch “- twenty one minutes and seventeen seconds ago, the sole controller of all the internet and communication signals here in Gotham. You see, while you were all so busy with this trial, my people and I have been allowed to take this city without anyone stopping us. And your chances of ever getting it back are slim to none. What a shame Oracle wasn’t around to stop me.”

The transmission ended and the Riddler said, “You are all hostages. Should anybody oppose the Calculator, you won’t be leaving this room. And don’t try to escape, there are guards posted at every door and window in this building.”

Barbara cursed under her breath. But there was no way she was going to allow these people to be in danger. The only small bit of relief was that the Riddler clearly thought of her as one of the hostages, not Oracle.

Come on Barbara, put that big brain of yours to use. What’s your plan?

The Calculator had wanted her out of the way for this which meant one thing: he knew she was the only one capable of stopping him. If she had access to a computer she could figure out what he was doing and how to give the city back to its people.

But to do that she needed the Riddler out of action. She felt a plan forming in her mind. There was no way to know what - if anything - her friends were doing, so it was up to her.

Approaching the Riddler, she turned on the ‘helpless young woman’ act. “Why are you doing this?” she asked tearfully.

The Riddler rested both hands on top of his cane. “Why do people do anything? Power, money, control - take your pick.”

“That seems awfully…” As she spoke, she felt under the seat of her chair and slid her escrima sticks into her hands. “Narrow minded.” Then she swiped the Riddler’s legs out from under him with one escrima stick and held the other to his throat. “What has the Calculator done to the internet in Gotham? Tell me while you still have teeth!”

A few jury members applauded and Barbara gave them an awkward smile. Her hair was falling over her face as she leant forward.

The Riddler blinked, trying to regain his bearings. “Why would I know that? I’m just the distraction.”

“You’re right,” Barbara said. “I need to talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey.”

She clocked him hard enough to knock him out then wheeled over to the computer and tried to see if she could trace the Calculator’s transmission, but there was no record of it whatsoever. Which was to be expected, she supposed.

“Where did you learn to do that?” a woman in the audience asked.

“Self defence class,” Barbara replied offhandedly. “Now be quiet, I’m trying to work.”

After a few minutes she sat back and sighed. “I’ve hacked far enough into his intranet to figure out he’s broadcasting some kind of signal that blocks everything except what he transmits.”

“If he’s controlling the internet how can you be using a computer?” asked the same woman who had spoken earlier.

“Computers and the internet aren’t the mutually exclusive. You can use a computer without internet access, you just can’t go online. The Calculator has set up his own intranet - that’s a private network only he can access. In theory, anyway. I’ve got close enough to determine its existence but I can’t do any more than that from here. I’d need access to his mainframe for anything else.”

“Do you understand what she’s saying?” someone asked.

“Not a word,” the person next to them replied.

“That’s alright, you don’t need to,” Barbara murmured. At a normal volume she said, “We need to get out of here. Any suggestions?”

Nobody spoke.

“Don’t all volunteer at once. Okay, facts. Guards at every door and window, no cell service or internet access, and we’re on the clock. Looks like we’re doing this the old-fashioned way. Maximum effort.”

The sound of an explosion was heard outside, followed by boots pounding the floor as all the guards raced toward it.

Barbara blinked. “That works too.” She quickly picked the lock on the door, opened it and gestured for everyone to leave. “Move it, people!”

When they made it outside, the crowd of people ran off in different directions, presumably to their homes, but Barbara felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see her dad. He led her down the alley where Batman and Nightwing were waiting.

“Are you alright?” Nightwing asked.

“I’m fine,” Barbara rsplied. “Was that explosion you?”

“It was your father’s idea,” Batman said. “He figured all you needed was a distraction, and we were happy to provide.”

“I sent everyone else back to the Cave,” Nightwing explained. “Hopefully they should be safe there.”

She smiled. “You did good. All of you.”

Batman cleared his throat. “Now, do you know what’s happening?”

 

“It’s so much worse than we thought. You remember the judge? That was actually the Riddler in disguise, and the Calculator has taken control of Gotham’s internet and communications.”

Batman and Nightwing shared a look, and Gordon put a protective hand on his daughter’s shoulder. 

“We need to get to his base of operations to stop him,” Barbara continued. “And there’s only one place in Gotham with enough tech to do that.”

“The radio mast?” Nightwing suggested.

She snapped her fingers. “Bingo.”

“Just tell us what to do.”

“Batman, you head back to the cave. Dad, Nightwing and I can handle this one.” 

“Alright.” He swung back on to the rooftop with a flap of his cape.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen him leave,” Gordon said, causing the other two to smile. 

“I’ll explain the plan en route,” she said. “Let’s go.”

As the trio headed to the radio tower, Barbara said, “Nightwing, as soon as we get to the radio tower I need you to climb onto the top and destroy the antenna. Dad, you be ready to radio for backup as soon as he’s done. But be fast, we only have a few minutes at most before he realises his transmission isn’t working. Got it?”

“Roger that, Oracle,” Gordon said.

Barbara stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. “How did you…?”

“I’m a detective, sweetheart. And I’m very proud of what you’re doing, but now is not the time to have this conversation.”

“Agreed.” She continued on her way. It wasn’t far to the radio tower, which was one of the tallest buildings in Gotham.

They came to a stop and Barbara asked Nightwing, “You up for a climb?”

He grinned. “Always.” 

“Take this.” She handed him an earpiece and put one in her own ear.

Then he prepared his line and jumped. He was off, effortlessly swinging across the gap and scaling the wall like he was born to do it.

Barbara couldn’t resist a small sigh, remembering when she’d been able to do that, even though she knew that as Oracle she was doing more good than ever before.

“What do I do now?” Nightwing asked over the comms.

“Smash it,” Barbara said.

“Say again, Oracle?”

“You heard me. Get your escrima stick and destroy that thing.”

“Alright.” He slammed his stick into the satellite rod and it broke in half, hanging down loosely as the connections between the wires fizzled out.

“Good work. Now get down from there. Dad?”

“On it.” He was already twisting the dial on his police radio. “This is Commissioner Gordon, all units to the radio tower. Repeat, all units to the radio tower ASAP. No sirens, we don’t want to give him chance to run.”

“Roger, Commissioner,” came the slightly staticky reply. “On our way.”

She figured she could get a look at the Calculator’s mainframe after he had been arrested, which would hopefully be soon. Right now her priority was to get him behind bars.

They waited outside and it wasn’t long before the police cars arrived and kicked down the door of the radio tower, brandishing their weapons as they stormed the building. Within minutes the Calculator was being marched out of the buildings in handcuffs while Barbara, Nightwing and Gordon stayed out of sight.

“I’d call that a job well done,” Barbara said.

-

“You all owe me,” Damian said, pointing an accusing finger at everyone in the Clocktower, including Commissioner Gordon. “I have been keeping that harpy Vicki Vale away from you all day. Do you have any idea how onerous that was? I wasn’t even allowed to engage her in hand to hand combat.”

“You did a good job, Little D,” Dick said. “We appreciate it.”

“That’s right,” Barbara said. “I’m glad to be back here with you all.”

“Would anyone like some tea?” Alfred asked as he entered carrying a tray. “I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“I would love some, thank you.” Barbara accepted a cup from Alfred and leaned back against Dick. “What a day.”

“Were you really going to prison to protect Bruce’s secret identity?” Dick asked her.

“Not just his. As Dad has already proven, it’s not that hard to make the connection to the rest of you. And if someone started looking into my life, chances are they might find hints that I’m a vigilante. The Clocktower isn’t just my base of operations, I actually live here. Plus I have some Batgirl stuff here, and people might put two and two together if they know redhead Batgirl disappeared around the same time redhead Barbara Gordon was shot.”

Dick nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Wait.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s Cass?”

“On the balcony,” Alfred said. “She wishes to speak with you.”

Barbara transferred into her chair and rolled out onto the balcony, where she found Cass sitting on the floor. “Hey. Are you alright?”

“No. I was...worried about you.”

“I know, sweetie. I didn’t want to go to jail but it was the only way to protect all of you.” She rested her hand on Cass’s shoulder.

“You taught me so much. I didn’t want to be... without you.” She rotated her body so she could lay her head in Barbara’s lap.

“Oh Cass. You’re one of the strongest people I know, I mean just look at how much you’ve been through. And yet you’re still a kind, compassionate, brave woman determined to do good. You would manage fine without me.”

“In many ways you are...like a mother to me.”

Barbara didn’t know what to say, but she knew that she didn’t need to speak. For Cass her body language said volumes. 

She gently lifted Cass’s head up so she would look at her, and stroked her hair with one hand while making the sign for ‘I love you’ with the other. She hoped that said enough, that Cass was like a daughter to her and one she was tremendously proud to have. 

From somewhere inside they heard Steph calling for Cass, which ended their tender moment. Giving Barbara one last smile, Cass stood up and headed back inside.

Meanwhile Barbara stayed where she was, looking out over the balcony railing.

“I thought I might find you here,” Dick said from the doorway. “Not interrupting your brooding, I hope?”

“I don’t brood,” Barbara said, turning to look at him.

“Then what would you call it? Contemplating? Pondering?” He put an arm around her shoulders. “ _Ruminating?_ ”

She playfully pushed his arm away. “I do nothing of the sort!”

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright. If you say so.” He knelt next to her chair and became serious for a second. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You know, after everything.”

She sighed. “It was an emotional rollercoaster and not something I’m in any hurry to repeat. But we won. That’s the main thing, right?”

“Another point for the good guys,” Dick said.

“Yeah.” She looked out at the city she loved and wondered just how much she would be willing to give up to protect it.


End file.
